“Trust me, I wear the mussed-up look exceedingly well. I just don’t want anything interfering with my hearing or sight lines.”
Kelland shrugged. “Your choice.”
Kendra glanced around the plaza. “Have we heard anything from the kidnappers yet?”
“Not a peep.” Kelland checked his watch. “Eight thirty is still twenty minutes off, so they may wait until the last possible second.”
Lynch looked up at three news helicopters buzzing around the plaza, then at onlookers watching from offices and building rooftops. “How in the hell are we supposed to get instructions?”
“Kidnappers’ problem.” Kelland motioned for them to join him in walking toward the blue tent on the plaza’s far side. “We’ll be here at the appointed time with the specified cash.”
“We saw the armored car,” Kendra said. “I take it that belongs to Noah Calderon.”
“Yep. He and his security men are already in the tent. My guys are drooling at the sight of all that money. They’ve taken down some major drug lords, but I don’t think any of ’em have seen that much cash in one place before.”
They ducked into the tent and were immediately greeted by a row of six monitors cycling through views of and around Pershing Square. Agents wearing headsets staffed consoles in front of the monitor bank.
Several other FBI agents stood around a coffee-and-Danish station, while others just stared at the stack of cash on a folding table.
“Good morning, Dr. Michaels.”
Kendra turned to see Noah standing in the corner of the tent. Jessie stood next to him.
“Good morning, Noah,” Kendra said. “You seem awfully chipper for someone who’s about to put twenty million dollars on the line.”
Noah shrugged. “All for a good cause.” He extended his hand. “Mr. Lynch, I understand you’ll be custodian of my money. I knew I could trust you the moment I met you.”
Lynch shook his hand. “That’s the plan. But there’s no guarantee it’ll still be your money at the end of the day. My job is to hand it over and stay alive.”
Noah nodded. “And hopefully get Dee back.”
“That’s up to the kidnappers,” Jessie said. “Who really thinks we can trust these people? They’ve already murdered three men.”
“No one here trusts them,” Kelland said. “But if Lynch and that pile of money can draw them out, we’ll be better off than we are now.”
Kendra turned back toward the cash, which was being closely guarded by two uniformed employees of the armored car company. The men sported identical mustaches, and for some reason Kendra found that bizarre under the circumstances.
She looked from one to the other. “Does the facial hair come with the uniforms?”
Neither man smiled.
“Tough crowd,” she murmured.
Lynch looked at the money, separated into neat stacks and bound by blue paper bands. “Unmarked, nonsequential, untraceable?”
“Absolutely,” Noah said. “You wouldn’t believe what a pain in the ass it was to get that much cash without at least some of the serial numbers being consecutive.”
“Pardon me if I don’t tear up for you,” Kelland said sarcastically. “The Bureau regrets putting you to such bother. May I remind you that you’re the one who offered to help keep Delilah alive.”
“And I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t deserve your rudeness, Kelland.” Noah picked up a stack of thousand-dollar bills and rifled through it. “They specified that it must fit in a container one by one by two feet. So they obviously don’t mind big bills.”
Kelland picked up a black leather satchel and handed it to Lynch. “You’ll carry it in this unless they instruct you otherwise.”
Lynch looked inside the empty bag and felt its sides. “No tracking devices in here, right? They were very specific.”
“No trackers,” Kelland said. “But our agents will have eyes on you from rooftops all over the downtown area.”
Lynch handed the satchel to another agent, who began loading the money into it. “Good. Because there’s about a hundred thousand other people out there who will also be watching me. And thanks to that projected ransom note, they all know I’ll be carrying twenty million dollars in cash.”
Metcalf ducked into the tent, holding a tall cup of coffee. “Don’t tell me the great Adam Lynch is getting cold feet.”
“Assassins and soldiers of fortune have never worried me. Greedy mobs are another matter entirely. I’ve seen riots break out over free doughnut giveaways. I can only imagine what twenty million will do to people.”
Metcalf smiled as he watched the cash being packed. “You’ve been in tough spots before, Lynch. I’m sure you’ll work your way through this one.”
“Now I am worried, Metcalf.” He smiled crookedly. “I’m not used to hearing words of encouragement from you.”
“Be afraid. Be very afraid.”
Kendra checked her watch. “It’s almost time. Any guesses how they plan to communicate their instructions? Skywriting? Dropped leaflets? Another PowerPoint?”
“Some of the cops outside were taking bets when I came in here,” Kelland said. “If you want a piece of that action, I’d hurry.”
“Racketeering concerns aside, I’ll pass.”
“Your choice. I got twenty dollars on a messenger service delivery. I just hope that—What the hell!” His gaze was on two LAPD cops escorting someone through the crowd outside and then into the tent. “Surprise. Surprise. What’s he doing here?”
It was Congressman Matt Dalborne, Kendra realized, and he looked very sheepish as he made his way across the tent toward her. “I apologize for getting in the way like this.” He turned to Kelland. “I thought my presence might help to keep the media at bay while this circus was going on. Instead, thanks to the LAPD I seem to have become a part of the circus. Just tell me where to stand to keep out of your way.”
“It’s a little late,” Kelland said sharply as he pointed to a corner. “And I won’t appreciate it if politics has anything to do with you showing up here.”
“Absolutely not,” Dalborne said quietly as he obeyed the order. “I just wanted to help. Kendra will tell you that I was at that concert when Delilah was taken. We’d already formed a bond at the school. This shouldn’t have—”
Kendra’s phone rang. She looked at her screen, and the caller ID lit up: DELILAH SAYS HI.
Jessie gasped. She’d seen it, too. “They spoofed the caller ID display.”
Kendra held up her still-ringing phone and showed it to everyone in the tent.
“Shit,” Dalborne murmured.
Kelland snapped his fingers and pointed to Kendra’s phone. One of the techies said, “We’ve got it. We’re recording.”
Everyone else had fallen silent.
Kendra answered the call and hit SPEAKERPHONE. “Hello.”
“Hello, Kendra Michaels.” The low, masculine voice sounded heavily synthesized.
“Who is this?”
“I have Delilah Winter. That’s all you need to know.”
Kendra spoke in an even tone. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”